It's Only Romantic When Someone Loves You Back
by adrilily
Summary: All the arguments Ron and Hermione have are only a coverup for what is inside. Hermione has feelings, but will they be returned? RHr eventually
1. I Wish

**Disclaimer:** Yes, I _am_ J.K. Rowling...that's why I have so much time to write random stories and post them on fanfiction. Believe whatever you want. I don't own anything.

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Hermione Granger sighed and pushed away her parchment and quills and leaned back against the soft maroon chair in the Gryffindor common room. Her thoughts wandered back to what had happened that day in Charms.

Ron had been going on about some Quidditch team as per usual, while she focused on the assignment, listening only to a few words he said, catching things like "amazingly stunning…astounded…right through the hoop…brilliant catch…" it went on and on until finally she snapped.

It had happened a lot lately, every little thing he said drove her to the breaking point. She didn't understand what was going on. Harry, looking helpless, had just sat there, unable to take sides or decide what to do. She knew the fighting with Ron needed to stop, they were under enough pressure with N.E.W.T. exams coming up in the next 7 months, and yet, she couldn't bring herself to do it. Stopping the fighting would be like stopping breathing. It had become second nature, and it was the only way to hide her feelings, her true feelings about Ron.

It wasn't something she could talk to anyone about. She had no girl friends, Lavender and Parvati were just too giggly for her taste, too make-up obsessed and too boy obsessed. She couldn't talk to Ginny either, the spunky redhead would more than likely just flat out tell her brother, and Hermione's whole idea of what should and would happen when Ron found out her true feelings would be ruined.

She had it all planned out in her head. She would be walking out around the lake, when suddenly it would start to rain. Not a sprinkle, but a full on downpour. Ron would come up behind her and offer her his jacket. She would refuse, she liked the rain. Then he would stop in front of her, look her in the eyes just once as if he really saw her. Then he would kiss her. It would be the most magical kiss, fireworks and sparks and electricity would flow from everywhere, and she would forget that she was soaked to the bone outside in the howling rain. She would forget any arguments she had had with him. All she would think about was that kiss. Then he would turn to her and say the three words she had been longing for him to say since the fourth year.

"I love you." Those three words held so much meaning. So much meaning that she could never express any way else.

But Hermione wasn't stupid. She knew that there was just no way they could make it work, even if he did like her back. She knew he'd had plenty of chances before to tell her, and that every time she imagined her fantasy, that was a minute of her life she had wasted, waiting for him. It would never happen, it couldn't happen, not with their history, he, the explosive redhead and she the bookworm, top of the class. It would never ever work.

Just then, a loud groan awoke her from her daydream. She saw Ron, the man of the hour, flop onto the couch opposite her, looking severely drained. Quidditch practice was over, and he looked worse for wear. Harry traipsed in behind him, Firebolt on his shoulder, mud splattered all over his scarlet and gold Quidditch uniform, looking very disgruntled.

"All in all, not one of our better Quidditch practices," Harry muttered, throwing himself on the couch next to Ron.

Hermione looked at them sympathetically, and yawed hugely. "I'm not even the one playing and I'm exhausted, I think I'll go to bed."

"Aww, come on Hermione, it's barely nine thirty. Besides, I still haven't finished that essay for Flitwick, and I need you to look it over when I'm done." Ron moaned.

"Is that all I'm good for then?" Hermione snapped, "Just because you have better things to do and I sit here studying doesn't mean I'm your slave. Do you realize that you wouldn't have passed the first year without my help? Do you?"

"Oh come on Hermione, I never needed you, I could've passed first year without you. I passed second year, and you were lying in the hospital wing the whole time."

"There were no exams in second year Ronald! And if you never needed me, then what am I still doing here? I would like to see you pass this year, these N.E.W.T.s without me. You'll never make it. And then what will you do? Without the proper training and scores, you'll never be able to be anything you want, nonetheless and Auror."

The sting of the words 'I never needed you' hurt Hermione so bad that she didn't care that this argument had been fought hundreds of times, she didn't care she was being completely irrational. All she cared about was hurting Ron as much as he had hurt her with the sentence before.

A crowd of Gryffindors were intently listening now, trying and failing to look innocent when Harry turned around to notice them all staring.

"I hate you."

The effect of these three words from Hermione's mouth made Ron's insides disappear. They had never been in an argument where she had said that before. Hermione didn't say things like that unless she really meant them. Ron couldn't believe that talking about a stupid paper would lead to something as messy as this.

He stood up quickly, threw a look of deepest loathing towards her, and said "I hate you too, I wish we had never been friends." Then he stalked off quickly towards the boy's dormitory.

The crowd that had been listening quickly went about their business, most leaving to bed, some finishing the final touches to a homework assignment.

Harry got up slowly, holding his head, and whispered "I'm sorry 'Mione," and hurried up to the dormitories after his angry friend.

Hermione sat there stunned, not believing what had happened. It had never gotten this bad before. After a minute, the only thing she could think of to do was cry. So she did. When she was done, the thought of Ron's retreating back set her off again, and she whispered "I'm so sorry…"

The only sound she heard was the crackling of the fire.

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	2. More Than Anything

**Disclaimer:** yada yada yada. Harry Potter is not mine.

**To My Reviewers:** Thank you so much for your comments and feedback, I hope you enjoy this next chapter.

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The next morning, Hermione woke up; happily unaware of what had happened the night before. She sang brightly in the shower, and tried fruitlessly to do something to her unmanageable hair. She quickly abandoned her attempt, and went back into her dormitory humming softly to herself. She quickly stopped as she saw Lavender Brown sitting on her bed, swinging her legs with a wicked grin.

"So…" Lavender laughed maliciously, "Hermione Granger has lost her love once again. The 'I hate you' was a nice touch you know. I think you've screwed it up even more than I could have hoped."

Hermione was ready to retaliate with a comment of 'wouldn't you like that' when she realized that Lavender had hit the nail on the head. She had screwed it up. A voice in the back of her head wondered vaguely why Lavender was so pleased with Hermione's deed of messing things up with Ron. Ron had dumped Lavender the year before, and from what Hermione had heard, he wasn't ever thinking of taking her back.

She shook off the feeling of foreboding at the look of triumph on Lavender's face, grabbed her bag, and stalked down the stairs to go to breakfast.

Upon reaching the Great Hall, she faced the dilemma of where to sit. She decided on an empty seat at the end of the table. However, in choosing that chair, it meant she would have to walk right past Ron. She took a deep breath, and walked determinately past, head held high, until she reached the empty seat. Had she stopped to look at Ron, she would have noticed a giggling Lavender sitting practically on his lap, while he looked disconcerted.

Hermione, having practice at eating alone, sat down, poured herself a glass of pumpkin juice, grabbed two slices of toast, and opened the latest addition to her book collection: Spellbound: A Study of Some of the Most Interesting Witches of This Age. She had just gotten to the chapter on Carolotta Pinkstone, when she felt someone eyes on her. She marked her place and closed the book, stuffing it back in her bag.

"What do you want Ron?" she asked simply, not bothering to turn around.

"Ah…how did you know it was me?" he inquired wonderingly.

"Anyone else would have simply come over, instead of standing behind me for three minutes, hoping I wouldn't notice." Hermione's ability to know what Ron had actually been doing was a bit unnerving, and he stood there awkwardly, hands in his pockets, searching for what to say next.

"Er…well…I…" Ron mumbled quietly, hoping that she knew what he was trying to say.

Hermione turned to face him. "Seriously Ron, just spit it out; what are you trying to say?" Obviously not.

"What I'm trying to say is…" he trailed off, looking so pathetic that Hermione almost wanted to forgive him. But then, she remembered the fight the night before, and kept her stony glare fixated on her face. "Shit Hermione, I can see you aren't going to make this easy for me." And he walked resignedly back to his seat next to Harry, luckily having been abandoned by Lavender, and drank his entire goblet of juice in one gulp.

Her heart was yelling at Hermione for letting him walk away; 'He was trying to apologize, why can't you just accept that and let him back?' But the more rational side was telling her that if he couldn't come right out and say it, it meant he really didn't mean he was sorry, and if she befriended him once more this would just happen again.

Feeling that today would be a very long one, Hermione picked up her bag and walked out of the Great Hall towards Transfiguration. She liked to go early to this class, to find out what they would be doing, and get a head start on the reading. Professor McGonagall was used to her coming in, and didn't even look up from her papers when Hermione opened the door, and went to sit at her favorite desk; the one third from the left in the second row. It gave her a good view of the blackboard, and she could observe what was going on around her. It was the perfect seat to watch the day's events unfold.

After about twenty minutes, the rest of the class entered, and sat down at their respected seats, Harry sittingtwo seatsaway from Hermione, and Ron next to him. The whole time McGonagall was talking, she could see Ron with her peripheral vision stealing glances at her, and she looked determinately forward and pretended to be deeply immersed with what McGonagall was saying about transfiguring large animals.

Their assignment for the day was to transfigure a Labrador into a teapot. Hermione didn't see how that would ever be any use, but set right ahead to do it anyways. Thirty minutes later, most of the class had succeeded in turning their dogs into china; all except Ron.

"Weasley, you've got to put your mind into it. You've got to concentrate." Hermione could hear McGonagall reprimanding him, as transfiguring animals was something they had done in sixth year.

Ron just sat there, shaking his head sadly. Professor McGonagall told him he would have to do an extra essay about how concentration was an essential part of Transfiguration.

After class was over, Hermione headed to the library, as she had a free period. After settling herself at her favorite table; the one in the far end of the library next to the books on troll wars, she pulled out a piece of parchment and a quill, and decided to start on her homework. She was just beginning the topic sentence for her History of Magic essay on The Great Werewolf Revolution of 1684, when Harry sat down across from her, and simply looked at her.

"What?" she asked. The look on his face was disconcerting, and she didn't know what her friend could possibly have in mind to make him look this way.

"I know something you don't know."

"Wonderful; way to be specific. I know something you don't either. The Werewolf Revolution of 1684 was started by Rowan Bolden." Hermione replied simply.

"That was something I didn't know, nor something I wished to know." Harry groaned.

"Well don't come in here and expect me to guess." Hermione smiled.

"I will only tell you if you make up with Ron." It was Hermione's turn to groan.

"Harry, I will do no such thing. He is the one at fault here, not me. And besides, if I do, you will probably just tell me something stupid, like what Hedwig had for dinner yesterday."

"Dang it, you figured it out." Harry said playfully. "But seriously Hermione, this is our last year at Hogwarts, you've got to make it the best, and with you and Ron fighting all the time, well, can't you just make up and let us have some peace?"

"Harry, I wish it were just that simple, but saying I'm sorry won't necessarily fix anything. It's just the way we are I suppose. I really wish we weren't this way; you have no idea how much I wish we weren't, but I suppose there are just some things you have no control over, no matter how hard you wish." Hermione stated simply, packing up her things and putting them back in her bag.

She left the library thinking hard, not noticing a red haired figure rounding the corner, lost in thought also. She didn't notice until they crashed head on into each other. She hit her head against his bony shoulder, and his bag crashed to the floor, the contents spilling everywhere.

When Hermione realized exactly who she had crashed into, she jumped up quickly, mumbled a quick "Sorry," and hurried down the corridor clutching her head.

Ron sat up slowly and watched her round the corner, a wistful look in his eyes, then started to gather up his papers and clean up the spilt ink that lay in puddles around the floor.

The only sound he heard was the slamming of a classroom door.


End file.
